


Heliopolis

by afrakaday



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gray wool, red silk. A red-orange feathered mask and its dark-horned companion...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heliopolis

 

Laura slipped the fiery-feathered mask over her eyes, adjusting the strap with a sigh. She hated these things, but Adar had dictated that she attend the masquerade gala benefitting Caprica City public schools’ military cadet program.

She squared her shoulders and entered the ballroom. The red sleeveless gown revealed more skin than anything else she’d worn in public since undergoing her mastectomy, and she considered that fact a cause for celebration.

"A phoenix, huh? Risen from the ashes." A masked man in Colonial Fleet dress grays addressed her as she glanced around for the bar.

Laura's stomach dropped. Craggy cheeks beneath his horned mask, piercing blue eyes, and that damn sexy voice served as definitive identifiers.

“Absolutely,” she replied. “And you. Bull-headed?”

“My family’s from Tauron originally.” He held out his arm. “Care to dance with this old minotaur?”

“Yes, sir!” She giggled.

She was surprised to find he was a good dancer. A sense of deja vu settled over her as they moved easily, edging a little closer with each song.

They sat together through a speech about the importance of the cadet program. Laura was relieved that she didn’t have to address the crowd tonight, particularly when he moved his hand to her thigh under the table.

He leaned over. “So may I take you home, Madam Secretary?”

She looked past the mask and saw only gentle compassion there, none of the annoyance that had marked their initial encounter.

“You may...Commander.”

He shook his head as he helped her to her feet. “Remember? I’m retired now.”

“Well, then. _Bill_.” She liked the way it sounded when she said it.

As he led her from the ballroom, his hand at the small of her back, she finally removed her mask.

“You’re beautiful, Laura.”

She liked that even more.

 

 

__________________________________

 

 

 

The ache in her thighs and lower back suggested that she’d gotten into something ill-advised before her mind had a chance to chime in. _Overly ambitious, Laura._ She’d only recently started getting out again.

A warm hand at her hip felt soothing when she shifted against the companion spooned behind her. She opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly to take in the array of clothing scattered across the floor before her: gray wool, red silk. A red-orange feathered mask and its dark-horned companion.

Her cheeks flushed to a shade indistinguishable from her mask as she recalled what had happened once they left the party.

 

 

_“So...how about a nightcap?” The corners of her eyes crinkled with her smile as she leaned against her front door, awaiting his answer. She was fairly sure what it would be, after that cab ride -- his arm draped over her shoulders and his other hand tracing light patterns along her thigh. But even if he took the out she was giving him, she’d consider the night a success._

 

 

There was life after her mastectomy. After her affair with Richard.

It wasn’t like her to tumble into bed with someone so quickly. After all, she’d warded off Richard’s advances for over two years before they’d become lovers.

But Bill was different. She sighed as his hand slipped from her hip to beneath the hem of her camisole and pulled her closer against him.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this at ease with someone so quickly. And she certainly wouldn’t have expected it to happen now, when she was just starting to get used to her changed body. But then, it was almost as if…

 

 

_“I feel like I’ve known you before,” he said, before threading a hand through her short locks and bringing his lips to hers for the first time._

_She hoped this wasn’t a good-night kiss, as she sighed contentedly against his mouth. But then she considered the taste of his kisses; he’d obviously found a breath mint at some point, tricky bastard. And the press of his hips against hers didn’t seem to indicate an intention to leave. He was planning on getting lucky._

Good _, she thought, wrapping her arms around his neck._

_“Me too,” she admitted, and turned away just long enough to open the door and pull him inside._

 

 

Their bodies fit together so well. His bare skin pressed against hers, the even breaths and occasional low-toned sighs...all of it felt so familiar. So _right_.

She rolled over to face him, her movements slow and deliberate so as not to wake him. His face, obscured for most of the night by his mask and then later by the low light in her bedroom, was open to her now.

“Who are you?” she whispered, barely audible to herself.

The room gradually grew brighter with the rising of the sun, and she continued her study.

 

 

_What was she doing, letting this near-stranger into her house?_

_He knew she’d been sick, but so far he thought that he was about to hop into bed with a whole woman._

Stop thinking about it that way, _she admonished herself._ If he can’t deal with it…

 _He can just leave, she finished, even as every fiber of her being hoped that he wouldn’t._ I feel like I’ve known you…

_“Where’d you go?” he asked, even though she’s standing right in front of him. In front of her bedroom door._

_In her second-guessing, she’d almost forgotten the impetus for it in the first place: this man. Bill. She shook her head slowly. “Bill-- I don’t know if I can-- if you’ll want to--”_

_He silenced her doubts and her words with a hungry kiss, his hands skimming along her sides, reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress._

_Anxious thoughts and insecurities receded when he took her mask from her hand and held it next to his own._

_“When I saw you tonight,” he started, “in this mask, and that dress…”_

_Her confidence came creeping back, buoyed by his own quiet resolve as he searched for the right thing to say._

_“All I could think was, that woman has a_ fantastic _ass.”_

_Laura laughed and smacked his arm. “You did not.”_

_“I did.” His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand coming to rest at her lower back, just above the body part under discussion. Laura felt balanced again, even with the prostethes between them._

 

 

He smiled as he came to consciousness. He leaned toward her and she thought he might kiss her. “Good morning,” a breath whispered against her ear instead.

The space between them where her breasts would have been didn’t bother her anymore. He wasn’t looking there when he pulled back slightly; he was looking into her eyes. Into her soul.

When they’d made love, she’d felt whole for the first time in over a year.

 

 

_“You know I’ve been ill since the last time we met. Cancer.”_

_He nodded. “Wouldn’t know it to look at you now.”_

_A painful smile briefly crossed her face. “I, um. I just want…” To not be having this conversation. To keep the lights off and her bra on. She pressed on anyway, opening the door to her bedroom and flipping on the soft bedside lamp. If she was going to do this, she had to put it all out there. Bill followed closely behind, nearly running into her when she turned to face him. “I’ve had a bilateral mastectomy, Bill.”_

_Would he stay?_

 

 

He reached out and cupped her chin, sweeping his thumb over her bottom lip. “How are you feeling?”

_Overwhelmed. Tired. Wonderful. Vulnerable. Vital._

She thought of the months of treatment, all the while battling with an increasingly bitter Richard. There’d been so many days when she’d never thought to hope for this for herself again.

Laura smiled. “Like I’ve been reborn.”  



End file.
